


when I was done dying

by Adam_pls



Category: Dark (Netflix), Dark (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Immortal (The Old Guard), Alternate Universe - The Old Guard (Movie 2020) Fusion, Animal Death, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Non-Canon Relationship, Suicide, Unrequited Love, animal cruelty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:13:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25576384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adam_pls/pseuds/Adam_pls
Summary: We’re assuming that an Old Guard is someone who can’t die, and while being immortal, sees entire civilization come to an end.The biggest challenge an Old Guard can face tho is not their immortality but an emotional bond they develop with other people.
Relationships: Jonas Kahnwald & Noah | Hanno Tauber
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay. This one is about my favorite ship - Jonas Kahnwald / Hanno Tauber + it's loosely based on the Old Guard movie.  
> As we havent been explained how and why exactly the old guards die, i've made an assumption that their deaths (or loss of immortality) might be somehow related to the soul-mates thingy. 
> 
> The story is basically about how the guys jump from one time to another - from 600-700s (viking invasion, hello) to 1200s (nothing sexier than good ol' inquisition, am i right?) and later to modern era. Some f-bombs, violence and other sorts obscenity to be expected. Cheers!

**Prologue**

“So you met an Old Guard, grampa?” a ginger girl asks a man sitting next to her by the fire. He offers her a smile, then winks at a blonde kiddo who happens to be his other granddaughter. She rolls her eyes. First, she hates when people wink at her. Second, she knows that he’s about to tell that particular story they’ve heard so many times it makes her sick to the guts. The man chuckles softly.

“I actually did, yes.”

He knows that the blonde girl would very much prefer him to tell something about paradise, but the older he gets the less he wants to tell those stupid fairy tales. The ginger girl asks another leading question:

“Was he tall and strong and beautiful?”

“He was handsome, yes. But tall and strong? Nah, I’m not sure of that.”

The ginger girl laughs. The blonde one snorts. She hates this story so much. She detests weak heroes. She believes that all real heroes should be big and brave and strong like bears or something. But the grampa prefers to tell the story of this stupid weakling.

“And did he save someone?”

“He saved me, if that counts. But he also saved Galileo, and many other people as well.”

The blonde girl snorts again. Everyone knows Galileo was a coward. You didn’t need to be a hero to save his stupid ass. Now if the _hero_ would have saved Bruno, the one who believed in other universes and better worlds…

“He also invented the cure for AIDS.”

The blonde girl narrows her eyes. That’s something new. Of course, there were other problems to think about in the year 2052, but back in the days, AIDS was the BIG big problem. She has read about it somewhere.

“But how could he die, if he was immortal?” at long last her sister asks the right question. A dead immortal is not really immortal, is he? Grampa takes a deep breath and then starts his story:

“We’re assuming that an Old Guard is someone who can’t die, and while being immortal, sees entire civilization come to an end. The biggest challenge an Old Guard can face tho is not their immortality but an emotional bond they develop with other people.”

The blonde girl laughs. This is the funniest shit she’s ever heard. An emotional bond. The only bond she knows is that of metal and solder.

“So he died because he fell in love?”

The blonde girl laughs again.

“Stop laughing Eli! I’m being serious here.”

“As I’ve said before,” Grampa interrupts his grandkid, “An Old Guard dies when he finally loses the emotional bond with his…”

Eli pokes him. At first, he tries to ignore this, but then she pokes again, harder, until he finally pays attention. She gives him a notepad. It reads:

“How old r u”

He never told them anything about himself, and they could only assume. And although he’s been with them ever since their mother disappeared, he’s still a big mystery to Eli and Franziska. Even now, he doesn’t provide any direct answer. In fact, he asks her instead:

“How much is 44 multiplied by 33?”

**Chapter 1**

“I can’t die. I just can’t”

Those were his first thoughts. First real memories of an actual dying. Of course, Jonas remembered the battle. He remembered the reason that led to it. He remembered the hows and the whys. But even more vividly and clearly he remembered the process of dying. The fear, the unspeakable terror he experienced, the realization and despair he faced when he was dying for the first time. The soft, cold snow and hard, frozen land under his weak, almost breathless body.

But what he remembered even more distinctly was the pale face, the blond hair, the red cheeks and the icy blue eyes in front of him. The face of his enemy who stared at him in amusement. A person who killed him and hundreds if not thousands like him before...

The barbarian watched him **die** closely, as if Jonas was an animal, a peculiar, rare thing, something of utmost interest. The amusement faded in less than a moment (a moment is only 90 seconds Jonas reminded himself). In a minute or so, the Viking lost any interest and turned to leave.

Later the barbarian and the snow became one in Jonas’ mind. One thing always associated with another. That day the snow was especially heavy. Minutes after battle, it covered everything and looked almost untouched. Jonas remembered it being everywhere: on his lips and eyelashes. It covered him like an old soft blanket. Much to Jonas’ dislike, it was impossible to lay still under it.

He would very much prefer to lay still and just die, because he felt not just anger, but also sadness and despair. But then rage overwhelmed him. It was no longer possible to lay still, because he didn’t die.

No, not like that. He actually died first, and then lived again. And when he did, it was impossible to lay silent. Not for the first time. Later he learnt the trick, but for the first time?? First time, he was so pissed off, he was so angry, so annoyed that it just overtook him – those feelings were much stronger than sorrow and despair.

At that moment, Jonas hated the barbarian, but even more so he hated himself for being weak and stupid and useless. This hatred was stronger than death. So he roared like a bear (well not really, because he was small, almost tiny), and chased his enemy, the one who was totally unprepared that the boy he’d just killed, whose body laid breathless behind him, was actually pretty much still alive.

It was a deadly mistake for the barbarian. Or so Jonas thought. As it turned out 90 seconds later, his enemy possessed the same power. The power of undying. The power of not dying, but living eternally.

It took five or six times for them to realize that it was impossible to kill each other. Five or six moments later, they laid silently in the snow, trying to figure out what was happening, trying to figure out what to do next…

***

News of barbaric invasion had reached the small village Jonas called his home months before it actually took place. The villagers got accustomed to constant raids, and didn’t pay proper attention to this new threat coming from North.

Of course, they were not stupid. They took everything their neighbors (folks from other villages) quite seriously. But everyone also knew how things with raids went. The Picts and Scotts came, took some food, some ducks and sheep, and then just left. Everyone could proceed with the usual: the never-ending cycle of life and death.

Life and death was a funny concept to think about back in the days. Jonas himself was the youngest son of a village healer (villagers didn’t call his father a druid, because druidism was kind of prohibited by Romans and then forgotten, but the way he treated patients was very similar to good old druidic ways).

Jonas wasn’t actually just the youngest, but also the only son. All of his siblings had died to disease or wild animal or both. It wasn’t something unheard of back in the days. Babies died quite easily, but somehow he, Jonas, survived. They called it a miracle – the life itself. And the truth was his father arranged some sort of magic rituals on the day Jonas was born. But Jonas himself would never call his survival a miracle because his mother died on the day of his birth.

The only miracle was in the fact that he (the softest and weakest of thirteen siblings) survived. Probably, his father was good at keeping him alive, after all.

He knew that a lot of babies and kids, his own siblings included, died before they turned ten. He also knew that a couple of boys from his village went missing. Dryads, they said. Like seriously? Everyone knew that dryads were sexy. Why would they kidnap an ugly ginger mug of Erik’s or someone like that? Nah, the boys just probably ran away with girls from other villages.

There were, of course, rumors of wild animals delving in their forests, like hogs or boars or even bears, but everyone knew how to fight those kinds of creatures. And everyone knew better than to go to the forest on their own.

Folks from his village were not warriors. They only knew how to live, survive, enjoy and preserve life. Together they could kill a beast, but alone? Not likely. Not at all. So, when the news of this Viking threat arrived, they arranged a meeting. They called his father, because he was a respectable man among the folks. They talked for thirty three hours or so, and then he decided that they all needed to go and hide in the woods. At least women and children did.

It goes without saying that no one liked the idea. In fact, women were furious. Some of them even pointed out that a lot of girls were more familiar with weapon and fighting than the likes of Jonas (healer’s own son). They agreed that it was alright, actually, because no one expected Jonas to wield a spear or something. His destiny was to heal, to help sick, diseased and dying. Some even pointed out that it would be a much wiser idea for him to stick to potions and magic than to ever approach any sort of weaponry.

Jonas’ father didn’t like any of these remarks at all. He thought it was all ridiculous, and then the real fuss began. It continued on and on and on, up until the moment it was already too late.

They didn’t hear the sound, but they saw fires and smoke above the woods, just next to the neighboring village. They knew that the meeting was over, and so was their peaceful life.

****

The barbarians descended on them like a swarm of angry forest bees. There was no way the little Celtic tribe could survive the invasion. The savages killed and raped girls (or raped then killed them, really), and some even raped boys. Old men and women were beheaded, cut in two, chopped to pieces. The Vikings were not Scotts or Picts. They didn’t plan to stay, and they didn’t intend to leave any survivors.

The only reason Jonas didn’t die with his tribe was because his father made him flee. It was something Jonas didn’t really want but was forced to do – and even then, not soon enough. The barbarians were already in the village when he was leaving, and so eventually he was chased. On any other day, he still could run away from them… but the fucking snow did fuck up everything – at least his father’s hope for his only son to get away or survive.

The Viking chased him across the woods. He barked something in a language Jonas could not understand, but he figured it was some obscenity or cursing or both. The savage was wielding a two-handed axe, and Jonas was pretty sure the man knew how to use it. As for Jonas himself, he only got a stave and a dagger on him, but the stave was totally useless against axes and other iron weaponry Vikings possessed, and the dagger was very much unlikely to be used in a two-handed axe scenario (in other words, totally useless as well).

Jonas hoped that the barbarian would get tired and eventually leave him alone, but the chase went on and on and on. The Celt was familiar with the forest better than anyone was. He knew that should it be spring or summer, he would fool any pursuer. But it was not a fucking summer. It was winter and it was snowing hard. The snow made it impossible to hide, so in the end Jonas was caught.

By that time, the barbarian was angry and tired. He yelled something in his barky language and then screamed some more. Jonas almost wished he could understand this stupid Viking, but fortunately or unfortunately, he couldn’t.

The barbarian made a swish and swoosh with his axe and Jonas deduced that the man wanted to fight. Jonas laughed at him. It was all hysterical. Barbarian charged at him, and Jonas tried to deflect or parry the attack, but it was completely useless. He attempted to protect himself with the stupid stave, but almost instantly realized that the women of his village were right. They were better at close combat than the likes of Jonas.

He lost the battle, and lost it so spectacularly and epically, it later made him laugh a lot. The stave was broken in two in a second, and in another second, he flew across the glade like a tiny hedgehog, hitting a tree as he landed. The cut across his chest was deep. The blood was all over. There were zero chances for him to survive. But then something happened.

The spirits of the forest returned him to life. Or were those the old gods? Brigid or Morrigan maybe? But why would Morrigan save him? He was no warrior, nor was he a hero. Maybe he himself was a forest spirit? The mere thought of it made him angry. He didn’t like the idea of being an imp.

His stave was broken yes, but his dagger was still intact. He roared and rushed after the barbarian. The bastard wasn’t prepared for that, and paid a price.

***

It took more than five attempts for them to stop trying to kill each other. They laid silently in a snow. They didn’t know what to say and even if they did, it wouldn’t help – they spoke different languages.

After a while, both of them realized that they needed to keep going. There were other barbarians, the Vikings, and they would surely want to know what had happened to one of their own. Had the Celt and the Viking been caught, it would be inevitable that their new little secret would be discovered.

The savage used the snow as canvas and his index finger as quill to draw little man dressed in something that reminded Jonas’ robes. Then he looked around, taking notes of the sun, the shadows, the trees. He drew an arrow directed to the north. He pointed at the little man, then at Jonas. Then motioned in the northward direction.

“North? You want me to go North?” Jonas asked. He realized then that the savage didn’t know his language and it was useless talking to him.

He poked at his chest and said “me”. The savage nodded and repeated “me”. Then he rapidly crisscrossed his index and middle fingers as if they were small legs, and said “go”. Savage repeated this, too. Then pointed at the tree he hit half an hour ago and said “North”. The savage smiled, showing Jonas all the thirty-two whites.

“You want me go North? Right?”

“Me go North.” agreed the barbarian.

“What about you?” He pointed at savage and then shook his shoulder. The Viking put hands on the throat and stuck out his tongue, then fell on the ground. “Oh. You are going to play dead, all right. You think it’ll work?”

He wasn’t sure how playing dead could help Viking in this situation or why he wanted to play dead at all. But he decided it was none of his, Jonas’, business. The barbarian could do whatever he wanted for all he cared. He killed hundreds, thousands of innocents, including Jonas, so why would he ever care about the likes of him or give two shits about his fate. And still…

It was quite sad to leave this place, his home, the only real thing he had in his life, but he knew he wouldn’t stand a chance if he’d stayed. He needed to hurry, and he probably needed to avoid everyone – not only barbarians, but his own kind as well. He decided to take some time to sort things out, to process this entire new situation. So he waved Viking goodbye and left.

***

Days, even weeks later, he arrived at the northmost shores of his motherland. The village that once stood there was abandoned. The barbarian was right – it was safer here, because the place had already been pillaged. Even though he didn’t believe in ghosts, he decided he didn’t want to stay inside the village boundaries. But he also thought that he could use what’d been left to build a house of his own. He wasn’t very good at it, never built a hutch, because never needed it – he was healer’s son after all – but he used to help villagers with it every now and again, so had an idea of how it could be done.

The only thing that really bothered him was the lack of food. The Vikings took everything from the abandoned village. He knew how to hunt small animals, of course. But would it be sufficient? He wasn’t sure.

As days and weeks went by, he had to move farther and farther, deeper and deeper in the forest. He knew that it was dangerous, so wasn’t really surprised when the bear finally found him.

The bad news was Jonas wasn’t equipped to hunt bears. What he had – a small stupid dagger – was only suitable for hunting hairs and foxes. He kind of wondered if the bear could really kill him. If the barbarian couldn’t, maybe the bear could? Maybe that would be a way out… a way to end the pain, the loneliness he felt after all his people, his father included, were brutally killed, raped, murdered.

He was already prepared to die again, as the yelling or rather something similar to fox barking rolled through the forest. A moment later, the bear skull was split in half.

Jonas stood there silently, observing the dead animal. Then the barbarian started laughing, and Jonas himself let out a tiny giggle.

***

They dragged the bear to Jonas’ hut. Skinned it and butchered, then hanged on strings to freeze and dry. They would later made another small hut to store the meat. Thanks to the bear, they didn’t need to hunt for almost two weeks. In the free time, the barbarian taught Jonas how to hold the two-handed axe, and more importantly, how to use it. In return, Jonas taught the Viking how to speak Celtic language so they could understand each other without silly drawings and gestures.

When spring came, they decided to get going. They moved from one village to another, never really stopping at one place. Jonas used his little skills and knowledge of healing to help people, and that made them some sort of living for a while. Then one day the realization came.

“You do understand that sooner or later everyone on this island will remember and know the likes of us?” the barbarian asked.

Jonas smiled weakly. He knew what Hanno (that was Viking’s name) was hinting at, but he really was not ready to leave his homeland. And so they stayed – soon enough they became legends and then myths. They were the ones that protected villagers from bandits and savages, who kept the Picts and Scotts and even northerners at bay. Hanno was always the one who chose to fight, who was stubborn enough to find a reason to get into some sort of brawl, while Jonas tried to make peace even with the Scotts. He found a way to talk the chieftains into armistice. The best news was they didn’t even kill him… well, not after the fourth or fifth time.

Soon enough the villagers, and even some Scotts, started worshipping them as Forest Spirits, and for a while, they enjoyed it. Hanno would have probably enjoyed it even better, hadn’t Jonas decided to leave.

*******

One day Hanno woke up and found Jonas’ bed empty. Wherever the Celt went, he was not there. Stupid ginger had never woken up so early, always slept well past noon. But on that day something did change. The fact that it was still early in the morning and Jonas was nowhere to be found – not in their small hut, not in the tiny garden they owned – was already a bad sign. What was even worse, some of Jonas’ belongings were missing as well.

It took days, weeks even to accept the fact, that Jonas left _him,_ he left Hanno. Obviously, the Celt didn’t want to be found at all.

Of course, the Viking tried to chase him, but it was all futile. Jonas was always more familiar with these forests, and thus barbarian’s chances to find the real Spirit of Woods were close to zero.

When he accepted it, he also figured that if Jonas didn’t want to stay with him, then he, Hanno, didn’t want to stay at these lands anymore. His tribe had already been long gone by that time. There were other northerners, of course, but he didn’t know them and didn’t really consider them to be equal or similar to him. As for the Great Island, he still couldn’t call it his homeland. He still felt homesick every now and again. The only real reason he stayed was Jonas, and this reason was gone. So he decided to cross the channel, to go back home…

***

It was a pain for Jonas to watch Hanno board a tiny ship. His heart ached for the first time in years. But deep down inside, he knew it was for the best. The feeling that developed inside him over time was more than friendship or trust. It was something more, and he was not sure he was ready to accept it. He was afraid that the barbarian would never want to understand or share it.

On that particular morning when he decided to leave Hanno, he realized – he developed an emotional bond. He also realized that he couldn’t allow it to grow any further.

So the day Hanno was leaving Britain, he just stood there and watched him board the ship. He didn’t try to stop him. He did just that – observed, waited for Viking to leave.

And then he watched him go for the very first time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I left you because you were inconvenience, and annoying at that.”

**Chapter 2**  
  


The pain interrogators inflected on Jonas was unbearable, but it faded away almost instantaneously in the wake of astonishingly vivid nightmares he had to endure. Those nightmares always followed the same scenario:

He and Hanno are at the lake, somewhere in the ancient woods of his homeland. The weather is nice (and quite unusual for Britain at that). He undresses fast and rushes to the cooling waters. His body is so hot, almost burning after long summer day. He can barely shake it off. Surprisingly, Hanno prefers to stay at the shore. He refuses to join and doesn’t even take his clothes off. Jonas laughs at him and yells:

“Come. It’s so good…”

Hanno murmurs something. Jonas can’t hear.

“What’s that??? Don’t tell me you are afraid of water, oh you mighty Viking.”

“I’m not. I’m NOT!”

To prove the point, Hanno finally joins Jonas, very unwillingly so as the water scares the living shit out of him. When it reaches his chest, he grabs Jonas by the hand, noticeably scared. The Celt laughs:

“Come. Don’t be a sissy. What Viking is afraid of water?”

“The one who can’t…”

But Jonas is already not there. He dives, then reappears on the surface of the lake. And finds himself alone. He feels a rush of panic.

“Hey! Viking! Viking!!!”

He submerges again, trying to see under water, trying to find Hanno, but the barbarian is nowhere to be found. Jonas dives deeper and deeper, but it’s all useless. He tries to resurface again but nothing comes of it. He can’t remember where the top of the lake is and where its bottom should be. Finally, he gives up and goes down…

…and then he wakes up, but the water is still all over him, filling his lungs, not letting him breathe. The Inquisitors use this kind of torture very deliberately, because they know exactly how he reacts to it.

****

It was 1490 Anno Domini when Hanno joined the ranks of Holy Inquisition. He did it not because he believed in greater good, but because the Order gave him the purpose, a possibility to hunt. He was good at it, and they paid in gold. The price for warlocks and witches heads was reasonable enough to hunt them down.

As the time went by, he started to agree with what grandmasters said. That they were protecting innocents from evil. At first, he only took small part at the actual interrogations and torture. All he was doing was helping Magistrate hunt witches down. He turned them in, and then the court decided whether they were guilty of all the nasty things they were accused of or not.

The idea that some of them could actually be innocent never crossed Hanno’s mind, and he didn’t actually cared. It didn’t bother him that these witches weren’t in fact possessed by incubus or some other ghastly imps. He knew first hands that incubi didn’t even existed just a couple of centuries back. All these devil’s relatives and spawns were invented by bored people to scare their stupid kids.

The thought that some witches (young, ginger or otherwise) were slutty seductresses also didn’t really matter to him. His own ancestors weren’t exactly prude, and often indulged themselves in all sorts of sexual shenanigans. But after he read _Malleus Maleficarum_ , Hanno figured that A) the most powerful witches and warlocks were born as such. They didn’t just eventually acquire their powers over time, but rather had it right from the start. And B) they could transfer those powers to other people, like an incurable disease. It all added up for Hanno.

He was pretty sure he didn’t possess any power of immortality before landing the shores of Britain. He wasn’t able to prove it, of course, but he was certain that every single one of his ancestors was already dead, and it could only mean one thing…

He remembered Jonas telling him that a lot of small kids and babies died in his village even before the Vikings came. According to _Malleus Maleficarum_ , that was a sure sign of witchcraft. The fact that Jonas knew a lot about herbs and medicine, that he was familiar with the ways around the thickest forests was yet another proof.

Hanno never noticed the boy to have a third nipple or birthmarks of any sort, but the Celt might as well have learnt how to properly hide it. After all, his father was a warlock (or a druid’s descendant, which was even worse come to think about it. Druids were banished by Romans, and those sleek bastards knew a thing or two about all things supernatural).

Hanno was certain: it was only a matter of time before inquisition would catch Jonas. As the time went by, the Magistrate’s influence became stronger. Soon enough, Hanno got positive of two things. First of all, they would catch, torture, and then execute Jonas repeatedly. Yes, they would inflict so much pain on him as they’d inflicted on no other warlock or witch before. And second of all, he figured that the trial would be so fucking loud, the entire Europe would eventually hear about it.

And that was how he hoped to find Jonas after five centuries of living in total darkness as to the boy’s whereabouts.

By that time, Hanno himself became a grandmaster of Holy Inquisition. He still didn’t have the authority to pardon witches accused by other inquisitors (only Lord Inquisitor himself could do that), but he could enter any prison, interrogate suspects, send them to gallows or even pyre.

Much to his surprise and displeasure, he didn’t learn the news about Jonas from someone else. He learnt it the hard way, firsthand, so to speak.

***

The nightmares came unexpectedly. They were so vivid and painful, that at first he couldn’t even understand what was happening. Only with time did he realize that he experienced every torture his fellow inquisitors inflicted on Jonas. Some of those nightmares and experiences were real bad, almost unbearable. The worst for him was fire, but then there was water and with it even more nightmares, his own inner fears and phobias of drowning.

Later came the real facts, names and the exact location. The folks of a small village somewhere on the outskirts of Southern France confirmed that a warlock had settled nearby. According to rumors, the said warlock was already hanged twice, and both times, he mysteriously survived.

Hanno understood perfectly well, who the said warlock was. He didn’t even need to cross Europe, all the way from Cologne to Languedoc, to see that warlock.

It took him five days to get to Montpellier (as the grandmaster of Holy Inquisition, he got free fresh horses at every tavern). Then the more recent news reached him. The peasants were quite agitated by it:

“They’re gonna burn him up. They’re gonna burn him alright me guessing.”

“Oh yikes. For reals tho?”

“Yeah man. They hanged him thrice already… Even my wife’s now gettin that he isn’t goin down that easily. And she’s dumb as a rock me guessing.”

“Right. Burning will put an end to it tho.”

“Yeah… Not even Pope’s gonna save his ass now me guessing.”

Hanno knew stupid peasants were right. When someone was sentenced by Inquisition, not one living soul could save their miserable asses.

“Are we getting on time tho?”

The uglier peasant checked with the town hall clock. Then thought real hard. Then replied to the dumber one:

“Yeah. We’re gonna be alright. It’s still 34 hours or so, me guessing.”

Hanno wanted to punch him a lot, but he also was aware of the fact that if he wanted to be there on time, he couldn’t afford fighting with pathetic peasants.

***

The village was flooded with magistrate forces of all sorts. There were more of them than there were of civilians. The white tents of Inquisition were everywhere. Hanno realized almost instantly that Jonas had no chance of escaping this nasty place alive.

It took less than ten minutes to figure where the warlock was held. Of course, they used the church and its cellars for that purpose.

He entered Jonas’ cell at dusk. The room was small and dumpy, and the odor was almost unbearable. What was even worse, the prisoner looked like he’d been through hell. It was a real struggle to look at the old frenemy. Jonas was a wreck, a total mess, an entire tragedy of a person. He bore no open wounds, because they healed immediately, of course, but dried blood was all over his tiny body. In addition, he was ridiculously dirty and almost naked except for a pair of worn out pants.

To see Jonas in such a state was a real pain, but then Hanno remembered the actual reason he crossed Europe.

“Why?”

At first, Jonas stared at him blindly. He didn’t recognize the visitor. They didn’t meet face to face for more than five hundred years, and to see Viking in this cell, all dressed up as one of his torturers, was quite a shock. For half a minute, he just inspected Hanno in amusement, slowly realizing who exactly was standing in front of him.

“I say why?!”

“I didn’t commit…”

“I’m not asking you that, you stupid mug” Hanno interrupted. He felt his blood boil. He banged his fist against a wall. “I’m asking why the fuck you left me.”

Jonas stared at him for another moment or so, and then turned away to face the window.

“I want you to go.” He said quietly.

“I’m here to get some answers Jonas. I’m not leaving without them.”

Jonas sighed. He imagined this meeting over and over again. Long before he got caught, he figured that the world was getting smaller with each new discovery, with everything humanity had achieved and was achieving. Pretty soon, he realized that it was only a matter of time before the two of them would eventually meet again. He never thought though that the barbarian would become one of his torturers. He had suffered enough from Viking living in his mind rent-free.

He wanted to end this conversation as soon as possible. So he blurted out the first thing that came to his mind:

“I left you because you were inconvenience, and annoying at that.”

Hanno gasped. It took all of his strength not to punch Jonas. What the Celt was saying was incomprehensible.

An inconvenience?? He took care of Jonas. He saved him from a motherfucking bear when the kid was starving to death already. He didn’t sell him to other Vikings, oh no. On contrary, he helped Jonas escape all the brutality and violence the boy could face.

“You’re out of your fucking mind. Always was.”

“Am I, really?”

Hanno spitted, then took a deep breath. He wanted to hurt Jonas real badly, but didn’t want to apply any physical force. The boy was already battered beyond belief. Hanno inspected Jonas’ back for a while, then said calmly:

“They’re right. You’re a fucking warlock. And you passed it on me.”

“Maybe you’ll join me on that pyre then,” Jonas replied, almost inaudibly. That was the moment when Hanno finally lost it.

“You know what? I have a better idea. I’m gonna _light_ it for you!”

He banged the door closed on his way out.

***

For a while, Jonas contemplated everything that just happened. He was enormously tired, nervous and upset. And then there was something else… For the first time in years, he felt some sort of peace. It was inexplicable, weird and quite peculiar even, given the situation.

Over the past centuries, he accepted the fact that he couldn’t allow himself any sort of attachment or happiness. First, it was emotionally devastating to lose loved ones. And second, allowing it would surely get him into more troubles than he needed. He figured there would be questions, and he did not want to answer any of them. No wonder that eventually his desire to be with other people, to help them, led to the imprisonment.

Then there was another thing. Another reason he couldn’t allow himself to get _really_ attached to mortal people. With time, he started to believe there was only one person in the world who could truly understand him (provided there were no other people like them), and that person was Hanno. The strong emotional bond with Viking was so irritating that at one point Jonas decided that he only had one option, really. And that option was to leave Hanno for good.

There were several other reason for that, of course. One of them being the fact that Hanno was still his sworn enemy. Yes, Viking explained time and time again that he was nothing like his kind, that he never killed a baby or innocent woman. But was the barbarian honest or was he just desperate and lying, because he had ended up in a situation of co-dependence? There was only one way to find out. For that, Jonas needed to give Hanno a choice. To choose between him, Jonas, and someone else. Jonas assumed that just because they spent so much time together, it didn’t mean that Hanno would willingly make a choice in his favor. After all, he killed him, and more than once.

Still, Jonas felt some sort of relief when he realized it was Hanno standing in front of him. It took all of his nerves not to jump at Viking and squeeze him in a hug. He decided quickly that it would be very inappropriate and stupid, especially after he noticed the mantle, the inquisitor uniform Hanno was sporting.

In the end, he come to a logical conclusion. It would be for the best to drive Hanno away.

***

At around midnight, a young inquisitor entered Jonas’ cell. He smiled peacefully at the prisoner.

“I’ve made a tea. Guess that’ll be an ultimate one…”

“Why’s that?”

“You are dying tomorrow.”

“No. I mean. Why you made it?”

“The grandmaster asked. He also insisted that I stayed with you while you be drinking it.”

Jonas knew he didn’t have a choice. Even if he threw the cup away, there’d be more inquisitors to force him drink it. He also didn’t remember any grandmasters interrogating him. The lord inquisitor? Yes. But the grandmaster?

He decided to take whatever Hanno was giving him without any objection.

****

At around 1:30 am, the young inquisitor checked on Jonas. The prisoner, the bloody warlock they were about to finally annihilate, was fast asleep and even snoring. The tea was made of St. John’s Wart, and it was highly concentrated. Just as grand master asked.

At 2 am the sound of alarm rolled across the village. The young inquisitor ran outside. It was very dark, but he could clearly see the fire at where the inquisition camp was. He called the guards, and they all rushed to help with it.

That night could have gone down in history. It could if anything would have left after the big fire somewhere at the outskirts of Languedoc. The flames jumped from tents to wooden huts to nearby trees to small houses to bigger manors. It took all inquisition men to put it down. All but one, that is.

At around quarter past two, Hanno rushed into Jonas’ cell. No guard was guarding it by that time, because it was obvious that the fire was a much bigger and more imminent threat than a sleeping and almost lifeless warlock.

“Get up, you sissy.” Hanno shook Jonas, but the Celt didn’t budge. Hanno shook him some more, but it was all useless. Just as Hanno was about to shake him again, Jonas produced a little snore to prove the point. Hanno roared, and then decided that it was the right time to implement the brutal force.

It wasn’t as easy as he thought though. While Jonas was no larger than a kitten, it was quite hard to pick him up. The biggest problem? The Celt was in some sort of delirium. Hanno realized that those were the side effects of bloody tea. Jonas murmured something, then looked at Hanno blindly, not recognizing him, not understanding. Hanno slapped him across the face, but Jonas didn’t react.

“Oh for fucks sake, we don’t have time for this kind of nonsense,” he groaned. He picked up the locks on Jonas wrists and ankles as fast as he could. He then dragged the stupid Celt outside. He knew that they needed to move fast. It would be impossible to explain why he was saving warlock, the one they were about to incinerate, from the actual flames.

“Come on, Celt. Give me a shoulder or we’re going down on that…” They were already outside, when he suddenly stopped, realizing that a pair of eyes was watching him from across the street. A girl, a mere teenager… Had she started screaming, they would have surely gotten caught, even amidst all the muss.

The girl stared blankly at Hanno. She then glimpsed at Jonas. Finally, she looked at the fires rapidly approaching. She came up to Hanno, and whispered loudly:

“Laisse-moi t'aider”

Hanno nodded. Help is a help. And he didn’t have time or choice to argue, really.

Together they dragged Jonas to the outskirts of the village. There was a horse and there was a hope to escape the whole mess.

“What’s your name? Comment tu t'appelles?”

“Charlotte.”

“I’ll remember this, Charlotte.”

As he said that, they heard the church bells rang. Hanno knew that their escape was no longer a secret. He also knew that had they been caught, they would indeed go on that pyre together, even though he was the grandmaster of Holy Inquisition. Maybe, little Charlotte would join them, too.

***

For a high-ranked inquisitor, it wasn’t a big problem to board a ship leaving France without too many questions. Still, Hanno suspected he wouldn’t be able to use his title anywhere outside Europe. Wherever he’d go, people hated the likes of him – the fanatics who inflicted so much pain and suffering on anyone of different views and beliefs. Needless to say, he had to bid farewell to all the money, influence and power he accumulated through the years of service. More importantly, he had to say goodbye to an illusion of a quiet life.

The good news was that by the time they boarded the ship, Jonas had almost fully recovered, and even was able to walk without support. He still refused to talk, and evaded any questions regarding departure that had taken place almost half a millennia ago. Such behavior got on Hanno nerves beyond belief.

“Five hundred years later, you’re screwing me up again. And after I saved you, huh.” he said as they were leaving the port of Marseille.

“I never asked you to save me.”

“If you’re so independent, go ahead. Jump off the ship. Spend another five hundred years on the bottom of the fucking sea.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I know how to swim.” Hanno knew what Jonas was hinting at. He stared at the stone-cold Celt in amusement. Jonas returned the stare, and then stomped off to their cabin.

****

It was still an early morning when their ship was attacked. The pirate boat was bigger. It was better equipped. Unfortunately for pirates (and fortunately for French merchants), Hanno and Jonas were not on the pirates side.

Even before boarding, the larger ship was heavily bombarded. Such resistance was new for pirates. They didn’t really expect that their attacks would be deflected or returned at early stages.

They were even more surprised to find out that the merchants were quite ready for the close combat as well. When the first thugs boarded the French ship, Hanno and Jonas had already been waiting for them on the upper deck. It was quite easy to send unassuming pirates flying off the ship. The bad news was that in less than two minutes, the vessel was over boarded with the attackers. Jonas and Hanno had no choice but to fight back.

Merchants helped as best as they could by not helping at all or screaming their heads off or trying to smack pirates with broad swords. Hanno and Jonas didn’t really expect anything from them, and were grateful even for that. The assault wasn’t a real problem, because they could easily take any melee attacks, and the bullets didn’t bother them too much either.

The actual problem came a bit later in the face of pirate captain, an enormously huge fellah with what appeared to be an even bigger oak cudgel. By that time, Hanno was already fighting three or four thugs. As the pirate boss came smashing merchants down and off the board, the Viking was totally unprepared, with his back to a more dangerous threat.

The attack was brutal. Hanno was smashed on the head, and then smacked on the side, from left to right. He flew up first, off the ship second.

Jonas watched it from across the ship with his eyes and mouth wide open.

“No!!!” he screamed. “No no NO!”

It felt like all the nightmares were coming to life. He roared and charged at the opponent who was twice as big and thrice as strong. It didn’t matter to Jonas. He was so furious, so angry, there was little to no chance for the pirate to survive. In a blink of an eye, thug’s throat was slit open. In another second, Jonas was about to jump off the board, but someone grabbed him by the shirt. It was French captain trying to stop him. Jonas fought back like a cat, almost scratching captain’s eyes out.

“Drop it!” Captain tried to hold Jonas, but the Celt continued fighting back. “The hell you doing, son?”

“Fuck off! I say fuck off!!!”

“We’re leaving now, and I’m not stopping the bloody ship for you! I’m not doing it for you or your stupid fucking self! You either stay or…”

He tried to point out that the pirate ship was sinking, that saving anyone’s life was a suicide mission, but Jonas was already gone. He knew he was running out of time. He knew that it only took two minutes or so for anyone to lose consciousness without air. Immortal or not, they still needed air to breathe. In about two minutes, a person would start feeling dizzy and then just go down to the depth of oblivion (or Atlantics in this case). He needed to act fast, and didn’t really had time to argue with captain.

There was another thing he was aware of. It was that if Hanno died (which was quite probable after that blow in the head), then it would take about 90 seconds or so for Viking to come back to life. Jonas deduced that in any event, he had less than thirty seconds. Only thirty seconds before it would become too late.

The debris from sinking pirate ship made search under water even harder. Jonas could swim, and he could swim fast, but the barrels, chests, logs, sacks and boards made it impossible to see things clearly. The water was muddled, too, probably with gunpowder or some other nasty stuff. What was even worse, the current was ridiculously strong. Jonas started to lose hope. He decided to go back to the surface to breathe in some air and then return. He repeated it over, and over, and over, before it became too dark and too deep to see anything. A thought crossed his mind that it was for the best. That it was not that awful to give up, to go down, to let go of his immortality. To go down to the ocean floor, just as Hanno probably did. He entertained this thought for a bit…

…and then suddenly someone grabbed him by the ankle.

****

Two days later, they were lying on a beach, washed ashore, at some unknown land. Both ridiculously tired, but also quite satisfied. The fact that they were alive was already a good news. They were still soaked to the bones, with their shirt sticking to their bodies and sand all over them, even in their hair. Hanno was the one to break the silence, and what he said made Jonas giggle for the rest of the evening:

“If you ever try to leave me again, Celt. I swear to Odin. I will find you and I will do to you what I did to that fucking bear back in the days.”

Little did he know that he’d be the one to leave Jonas this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For this chapter I double-checked the facts. Witches were indeed often accused of having a third nipple and stuff like that.  
> 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "the truth is I’m done dying"

It was 1789, the year of La Révolution Française, when Hanno left Jonas. To Viking’s great surprise, Kahnwald refused to take sides. All of a sudden, he turned pacifist. He told Hanno he couldn’t care less about French, but Hanno suspected the real problem was a bit different. The wounds left by inquisition were still fresh (at least metaphorically), and Jonas simply didn’t want to go back to France.

Hanno hoped that with time, they would reunite, but it never happened. Jonas evaded him as best as he could, until Hanno lost any track of the Celt completely. It has taken more than two centuries to finally find him again.

And now Hanno stands here, in the middle of this fucking metropolis, stares at one of the tallest skyscrapers in the world, trying to process the peculiar fact that this monstrosity belongs to his old frenemy.

While Hanno himself prefers to keep his entire existence under radar, just like most immortals do – to live in shadows, trying to be as discreet as possible – Jonas has chosen a different path. As if he wanted to show off, to prove something. He’s built this huge pharma company, specializing in incurable diseases. It is so big that Hanno can barely believe it is Jonas’ doing: it seemed so outlandish, completely out of character for Jonas.

The interior design strikes even more. Everything inside the skyscraper looks like you’ve stepped inside a sci-fi movie or something. And the girls at the reception? They appear to be too blonde, too cool and too important. One of them gives Hanno a fake smile:

“Welcome to Kahnwald Industries, the most progressive and innovative company on the west coast. How can I help you sir..?”

“I need to see the CEO”

“And your name is..?”

“Hanno. Hanno Tauber.”

The girl clicks through something on her PC (for all Hanno knows, she might as well be clicking through Twitter or IG). She does it for two minutes or so and then produces a sigh:

“It’s a shame you didn’t schedule for the ah…”

“Tell him it’s Viking.” Hanno shows her all of his 32 teeth. The girl pays back with another fake smile. She hesitates to call the boss, but in the end does exactly that. She goes oh and ah, and finally motions for Hanno to take the elevators.

The second he steps inside the penthouse, a 50-smth bearded man standing by the window says coldly:

“Took it way too long this time. A bit more and you’d be out of luck to meet me at all.”

Hanno doesn’t understand what it means and doesn’t recognize the man. Obviously, it’s Jonas, because the voice is still the same. But it’s not JONAS Jonas. Not his Jonas.

“You look different now…”

Jonas nods and turns away to the window, pretending to be incredibly interested in the first snow falling outside. He then says very quietly, almost inaudibly:

“I’m also dying now.”

“Wh…”

Hanno feels dumbfounded. Jonas can’t die. It’s ridiculous.

“But you can’t…”

“That’s what I’ve always thought, too. Ever since the day I met you I’ve always thought I was invincible. But then I started to forget you.”

Hanno wants to pretend he doesn’t understand what Jonas is hinting at, but he does.

“I met him in 70s. 1970s that is. He was cute, blond, young, naive. Just like you back in the days”

He chuckles softly. Hanno waits for him to continue, but Jonas remains silent.

“And?” Hanno becomes impatient. Jonas shrugs it off:

“And I was too reckless. Just like I’ve told you. Thought I was invincible. Didn’t think anything could have ever happened to me. Had been immortal for too long.”

“I don’t understand what you are trying to say…”

“The AIDS, Viking. The fucking AIDS.”

“But it’s a manageable disease. Everyone knows it.”

“Not at this stage.”

Jonas takes a breath, then turns back and smiles weakly at Hanno.

“Anyways, I’m not dying in bed. I am not. They say I still have months, years maybe, but I don’t see a point in it. Truth is I’ve never seen the point of living after you killed me for the first time. I’ve died millions of times for reals, you know. In my head, I’ve died even more. And the truth is I’m done dying.”

He nods at the desk in front of him. Hanno looks in that direction. He looks back at Jonas. The Celt offers him one more smile. Hanno feels dizziness. He focuses his gaze at the whiskey snifter, trying to process the thought, trying to shake the sudden realization off. It comes so impedingly and unavoidably just as that dagger at his throat back in the days when Jonas killed him for the very first time. He is shocked so much that doesn’t even notice when Jonas collapses **.**

Seconds pass by and by. It takes more than a minute and a half for Hanno to realize that the one he’s always regarded as his soulmate is not coming back to life. He waits another moment, then another and another…

***

_**Three years later, he discovers a first gray strand of hair on his head.** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This final chapter is a tribute to all the AIDS victims across the globe. You are loved and remembered, always.

**Author's Note:**

> As always: if you have any thoughts, leave them in comments.


End file.
